


Forever Hold Your Peace

by side_stickie_note (lost_stickie_note)



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: And Jeongyeon, Angst, Brief mention of Tzuyu, Childhood Friends, F/F, Heavy Angst, Rated M for brief mentions of nudity, Sana is hopeless, Unrequited Love, Wedding dresses and weddings, and nayeon, drunken kisses, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/side_stickie_note
Summary: Sana wishes she could be happy for Momo. After all, her best friend is gettingmarried. Just not to her.
Relationships: Hirai Momo/Minatozaki Sana, Hirai Momo/Myoui Mina
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40
Collections: Sprout and Blossoms - Round 1





	Forever Hold Your Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, so, uh, first gg fic in a LONG time, and first one I've posted on ao3. But I really loved the prompt? And I also just happened to think Sana fit as the protagonist of this one. :)) I hope it isn't too disappointing, haha. -wiggles-
> 
> Prompt #073:  
> A is in love with their best friend B. B is getting married to C. B has asked A to design and create their wedding dress.
> 
> Thank you to my two lovely beta readers. Love you both lots and lots. ♡♡♡

Sana knows that she should be happy for Momo. Because Momo is her best friend, _has_ been her best friend ever since she could remember, the two of them playing dress-up at each other’s houses when they were just kids, with Momo as the princess and Sana as her prince. Sana’s always been the prince to Momo’s princess. It’s just how it’s been, just how she thought it’d always be. And maybe Sana shouldn’t have imagined their forever so easily, something she thought would be a given but isn’t so much of a given anymore.

She can’t bring herself to be happy.

But at the very least, she can bring herself to smile, the corners of her lips tugging upwards gently into the smallest curve, the minimalist effort not quite reaching the rest of her face, her cheekbones not lifting up, her eyes not sparkling with their usual glitter. At least, that’s what Sana imagines herself to look like, but she can’t really tell with the way Momo is gushing and forging on ahead without a second thought like she can’t see the way Sana is breaking apart on the inside. Maybe Momo can’t. See that Sana is hurting, her voice quivering as she speaks, an underlying sadness. “I’m so happy for you, Momo. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Her name is Mina.

Sana doesn’t have time to compose herself, doesn’t have time to take in the news that Momo is engaged and getting _married_ before she is whisked away to the restaurant to meet Momo’s fiancée in a perfect sham of a brunch. Everything happens so fast that it really doesn’t even sink in that Momo is back yet, back after spending 2 years away in Korea to find herself after her dancing career had gone south, an injury derailing everything Momo had worked hard for since she was 4. And while Momo had been off finding herself, Sana had stayed busy losing herself, throwing herself into a career she isn’t sure she really wants, ending up in the beds of other girls who aren’t Momo, pretending to her friends that Momo’s absence doesn’t make her whole body ache with the need to cry every night she goes to sleep, and there’s no new messages on her phone.

Two fucking years.

And Momo shows up on her doorstep like nothing has changed between them, still looking as lovely as ever, the only thing different being her hair, shorter than when they were younger, her soft flowing tresses cut sleekly off just above her shoulders, the place where Sana used to rest her chin when backhugging the other girl. She tries not to remember the feeling of running her fingers through Momo’s hair as the other girl rested her head in her lap while they watched movies for hours. Momo would always fall asleep first, leaving Sana to quietly try to stay as still as possible as to not wake her friend. Not that Sana ever minded.

It’s hard for her to forget.

It’s even harder for her to forgive.

She doesn’t have the luxury though—to hide out in her room and scream and break everything in her path—and instead, she works desperately to keep the whirlwind of conflicted emotion off her face throughout their brunch. Tries hard to keep herself from just getting up and walking right out of the restaurant like the way Momo had walked out of her life. Two fucking years and not even a bad explanation. Just that one _Happy New Years_ text, the clinking champagne emoji looking damn sad on her phone as she downed a whole entire bottle that night in response, alone in her apartment.

Sana hates that it only takes one fucking smile for her to let Momo back in.

Momo prattles on the whole time, enthusiastic about telling Mina all about their shared childhood, about the time Sana had taught her how to roller blade, the two of them spending the entire afternoon falling on their asses together, with Momo going down first and always bringing Sana down with her, Momo’s grip on her wrist too tight. Or all the times they had snuck into R-rated movies after buying tickets for another show, hiding out in the back row so no one could see them, trying not to get caught, giggling over a shared secret, throwing popcorn at each other. Their nights sleeping over each other’s houses and staying up until the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise together, the reds and oranges bleeding into the sky.

Momo doesn’t mention that they were each other’s first kiss.

Because why would she.

Or that they had made a pact to marry each other if neither of them found someone by the time they are 30. And nothing is said about the night both of them had gotten piss-poor drunk at their friends’ wedding, Sana eating Momo out until she could feel Momo’s thighs trembling. Or about the couple rings Sana had bought them when they were 18, the feeling of slipping the small metal band on to Momo’s slim fingers making her heart race.

They’re 29, turning 30 this year.

Mina is a ballerina.

She’s 163 centimeters tall of pure elegance, and Sana wonders how she could ever compare. The other girl has a demure smile and graceful fingers, and Sana can’t help but notice their hands intertwined prettily on top of the white tablecloth. Momo is wearing a ring, definitely worth more than the cheap one Sana had bought her way back when, and maybe Sana is just the tiniest bit jealous that this ring isn’t just a band of broken promises. She barely even tastes the food as they talk, and she needs to take gulps of water, the bite lodging in her throat, a hacking cough coming out as if to spite her when Momo asks.

“Will you be my maid of honor?”

Sure, just twist the knife in further.

Sana can’t recall whether she managed to be properly excited, the sound of everything in the restaurant fading away into the background, the buzz in her head getting louder as she takes more sips of her mimosa, supposedly a low alcohol content drink. “I- I need to go to the bathroom.” Momo seems startled when she stands up suddenly, her chair scraping back against the floor with a louder-than-expected screeching sound. She takes exactly twelve minutes in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror and splashing her face with cool water, wondering if she is absolutely insane for opening the door once she realized it was Momo’s voice over the intercom. Very likely.

When she gets back to the table, the two of them are speaking in hushed tones with each other, faces craned closely together, cheek-to-cheek, the exquisiteness of Mina’s side profile on display. Momo turns to her with a bright smile when she returns, all charming and open and sweet. “I was just telling Mina about the business you started. With the shop. And how it was always your dream to have a shop of your own since we were little.” Momo’s comments startle Sana. _I didn’t know you even knew about my shop._

Momo turns back to Mina, waving her hand in Sana’s direction, eyes sparkling just the right amount to make Sana hurt. “God, she was so great when we were younger. Such a good eye for design and just knowing the exact right way to make everything look flattering on everyone.” Momo laughs, and the sound makes Sana’s chest tighten, knocks the breath right out of her. “Remember when my prom dress got ruined like a week before the dance because my dog got into my closet? And you fixed it up and made it even better than it was before. All within the two nights before.”

Mina is smiling at her now too, and Sana hates herself for thinking Mina is beautiful. “Momo has told me a lot about your shop. The dresses on your website are absolutely stunning, really. She gushed about how she’s so proud of you the entire flight back from Japan.” Sana tries not to let the bitterness show on her face, the unbidden tears stinging the back of her eyes. Proud. _Proud._ But couldn’t bother to call even one damn time over two years.

“And that’s why I was _hoping_ …” And Momo is glancing up at her with a pleading expression through fluttered eyelashes and clasped hands. “…that maybe you’d consider doing my wedding dress.” Sana is stunned into silence in the face of the two girls looking at her expectantly. It takes her several moments before she manages to choke out the words, her mouth dry.

“When’s the wedding?”

It isn’t until she’s lying in bed later that night, staring up at her ceiling wishing for sleep to come that the magnitude of what she’s agreed to hits her. She’s going to design and make Momo’s wedding dress. The one she’ll be getting married in. To someone that isn’t her. To Mina. Gorgeous dainty ballerina Mina.

The tears finally come, and Sana hates that it’s a habit and not a surprise.

\---

Sana feels off-kilter, and she knows that she’s being wasp-ish, one of her attendants nearly breaking into tears in the morning after she yelled at her. _It’s all Momo’s fault._ Ever since the other girl had returned, Sana has been on edge, balancing precariously, desperately trying not to let her emotions drown her. It isn’t quite working as well as she had hoped. Two months back. And Sana has seen or talked to or texted Momo nearly every day for the last two months.

Her days have consisted of going to the boutique in the morning, helping other patrons and fulfilling other custom orders as she worries incessantly about what Momo thinks of every new tweak to the dress that she sends over. Resisting the urge to check her phone every time it goes off, ignoring the itch in her head telling her it _might_ be Momo. Skipping lunch and pretending as if she isn’t checking Momo’s Instagram page. Putting extra effort into pretending that she isn’t also checking Mina’s Instagram page. Doing alterations on all her designs in the afternoon and spending her evening catching up on all of Momo’s messages, the collection of pictures and requests taking her hours to slog through.

It hasn’t escaped her notice that Momo eats up a majority of her time.

Nor has she forgotten that Momo is still engaged to Mina.

Not even when she’s alone in bed, fingers working deftly to draw out Momo’s name from her lips, eyes closed imagining, the shame only coming on later after she’s come down from her high, the scene of Momo smiling at Mina adoringly burned into her mind.

No, it’s hard to forget that the love of her life wasn’t just satisfied with breaking her heart once, needing to do it twice just to make sure she can’t put herself back together again.

“Tzuyu, can you take care of Ms. Han’s dress appointment this afternoon by yourself? I will be attending to another customer.” Sana softens her tone, voice laced with guilt, when she sees the expression on the younger girl’s face, a cross between trapped and anxious. _Shouldn’t have yelled at her earlier._ After all, it’s not Tzuyu’s fault that Sana can’t. Get. It. Together. “I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to yell- I’ve just been slightly stressed recently with Momo’s custom order wedding dress. I didn’t anticipate the amount of time required, and now the pressure is starting to get to me.” Sana gives Tzuyu an apologetic look.

“Momo’s your childhood friend, right?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“You must be so excited to be designing a wedding dress for such a close friend.”

The words escape before she can stop them. “Excitement isn’t quite the right word.” She replies drily, immediately regretting it when she sees the stricken look on Tzuyu’s face, letting out a deep breath slowly. “I’m sorry. Just…the stress is all.” The other girl shoots back a sympathetic look. “…are you sure you’re okay?”

Sana rubs at her temples, closing her eyes briefly, feeling the headache starting to form. _Definitely not okay._ “Yes, I’m fine. Just make sure Ms. Han is attended to properly. She is a very loyal and valuable customer who’s helped refer us to many of the friends in her social circle.”

She doesn’t get anything done for the rest of the morning, too restless to sit still and flesh out the half-finished designs from earlier in the week. All she can think about is the last text on her phone from Momo. _See you this afternoon._ Complete with a kissing face emoji. And some extra added hearts for good effect. It doesn’t mean anything, she knows it doesn’t. But that doesn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat when she sees it.

Momo brings with her the smell of sakura blossoms, the scent wafting in like the middle of spring, and Sana can’t help but remember running her fingers through Momo’s hair when they were younger, trying to get out all the tangles. The same scent from back then, still the same shampoo that Momo used to like using. Except now she’ll never again bury her face in the crook of the other girl’s neck during a backhug in a thinly veiled attempt to feel closer than friends. Because they weren’t, because they’re not. And now that Momo is getting married to Mina, they never will be.

Sana grits her teeth, immediately regretting it as the motion sends a sliver of pain shooting through her temple, the previously looming headache starting to leak into her reality. _Fuck._ The sound of Momo’s voice shakes her out of her thoughts, and she automatically turns to follow the other girl, as if moved by some invisible string that ties her to Momo. She takes a sharp breath, watching as Momo takes off her sunglasses covering half of her face, revealing her eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the lighting in the shop.

“Saaaaaana.” Momo stretches out her name as if she’s trying to savor it in her mouth, the taste of sticky taffy being pulled apart in pieces.

It gives her a sugar rush.

It makes her head hurt.

“I’m so _so_ glad that you said yes to making my dress.” Momo positively gushes. “I don’t think I could imagine anyone else doing it, really.” Sana lets herself be pulled into the hug, lets Momo brush the kiss across her cheek. Friendly and oh-so-inviting. The smell of sakura blossoms intensifies as she gets closer, and Sana inhales it like a high. “You don’t even know how _stressed_ I’ve been, Sana. The wedding is driving the both of us crazy. And it’s so _soon_. We really didn’t want it to happen so quick, but really, it was the only time both our families would be around at the same time. You know. And I wanted a spring wedding.”

Yes, Sana knows.

Momo looks at her with bright eyes, long lashes, cherry-kissed lips, and frostbitten cheeks. It’s still February and cold as shit, and Sana holds out her hand to take Momo’s coat, hanging it up on the free hook inside the dressing area they’ll be using, the reflection of the other girl staring back at her from the multitude of mirrors arranged around the little circular platform. Sana pulls the curtains closed, the backdrop of the rest of the shop falling away, leaving the two of them alone. Momo’s dress is already in the room, albeit still contained within its proper garment bag, and Sana waves her hand, motioning. “Do you want to do the honors?”

Sana tries to breathe when Momo starts unzipping the bag to reveal her dress, the first time she’ll have seen it since Sana had started working on it. It doesn’t work, she ends up holding her breath and doesn’t let it out until she hears the little gasp from the other girl, the dress slowly spilling out of the bag in all its glory, the heaps of white, layer upon layer. She can’t hear anything except her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as she waits for Momo to say something, anything, the other girl just standing there without a word and _staring_.

“It’s _perfect_.”

Sana thinks so too.

Her chest twinges.

She clears her throat before speaking. “It still needs a few alterations, but I wanted you to see it before I worked more on it. And I wanted to get your measurements today so I can adjust the dress accordingly.” Sana ignores the itch in the back of her throat, plowing forwards. “Do you want to try it on now? I’ll have to give you a hand.”

“Yes, _please_.”

The please sounds like everything Sana has ever wanted.

“Here, why don’t you get out of your clothes first.” Momo needs no further urging, already crossing her arms over her front to pull up the sweater, slipping her boots off, sliding out of her jeans. And Sana hates that she can’t stop herself form staring, from the back of Momo’s heels, up to her pretty calves, the back of her knees, the groove where Sana used to stroke mindlessly when they watches movies together, the other girl swinging her legs into her lap. Momo’s lithe upper body, the relaxed curve of her back, the sharp points of her shoulder blades. Her panties are a light blue. “Umm, since your dress is strapless, you might want to-“

Momo reaches back, her long fingers unhooking the clasp easily, and Sana feels the air leaving her lungs, the top of Momo’s breasts coming into view in the mirror first, and Sana has to close her eyes as the shame washes over her. It hurts that she can still see her perfectly in her head, the swell of Momo’s chest as she trembled the one time Sana had taken her to bed. And the shame changes to self-loathing for holding on to something so cheap and meaningless.

“Here, step into it, Momo.” Sana averts her gaze downwards, holding up the back of the dress as Momo pulls it up, keeping it in place with her hands at the front. And Sana concentrates on zipping the back up before picking up the flowing train of the dress, fluffing it out to spread out perfectly behind Momo. It’s been years, but Sana’s memory is painfully fresh, the dress clinging to Momo’s frame almost perfectly, barely any extra slack, the material flush against the other girl’s pearly smooth skin. She doesn’t even need the clips to make sure the dress stays in place properly.

Momo is smiling when she looks up.

And positively squeals when Sana meets her eyes in the mirror.

“I absolutely _adore_ it.”

Momo’s eyes dart around, checking her reflection in each mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of how the dress looks from each and every angle. The bodice is full of small little lacey roses, a bit of beading threading its way through, blossoming from the top down to the bottom, trailing into a nothingness near the waist, the abundance of white flowing from Momo’s hips in waves, the dress forming a little perfect circle around her feet, flowers embroidered onto the edges.

She looks like a princess.

“We’ll have to tighten it a little bit up here, but it mostly looks like it fits you, Momo. What do you think about the fit?”

“It’s pretty good, actually.” Momo turns experimentally, lifting her arms up in the air, twisting. “On the day of, do I need to wear something to make sure the dress doesn’t slip down up here?”

“Well, the dress will be fitted to your form, and you’ll have to go braless obviously, but we can slip something inside if need be, but the shape of the dress should do most of the work.”

“Okay, other than that,” Momo stares critically at her reflection. “Could you add a little more beading to the dress here?” Momo motions near her waist. “I like these tiny pearls from the top. They look so nice.”

Sana takes down the rest of Momo’s requests, her mind on autopilot for the rest of their appointment, the time passing by in a blur. She can’t remember the last time she had felt so tired, the ache of the day seeping into her bones by the time they finish, with Momo trying on a few other sample dresses for good measure, and Sana spends all her efforts reassuring Momo that she looks gorgeous in every single one while avoiding looking at the other girl in the mirror.

To be fair, Momo could be wearing the ugliest wedding dress in the world, and Sana would still think she looks gorgeous.

“Well, I think that’s everything I wanted.”

_And nothing I did._

“Let me treat you to dinner to thank you.”

The headache somehow worsens in a split second.

_Please, no._

Sana ends up at dinner.

There are far too many people packed in the bustling restaurant, and everyone gives them dirty looks when they manage to skip the line, Momo giving her a wink as they follow the hostess. _I have a friend who works here, and I called in a favor._ They’re seated deep in the back, the blanket of shadows and dim lighting hiding them away from everyone, and Sana becomes acutely aware at how it looks, the two of them nestled away together. The waitress doesn’t help. She sidles up to their table, giving them a slight smile before opening up with his introduction. “Hi, my name is Jeongyeon, and I’ll be your server for tonight. Could I interest you two in some drinks to start off? We have some great Valentine’s Day cocktails if you’d like to try it. Or maybe just some wine?”

Sana stares back at Jeongyeon, dumbfounded, not quite sure she’s hearing correctly, but Momo doesn’t skip a beat. “Ooo, what’s in the cocktail?”

“We have two actually. Cupid’s Arrow, which is vodka, blood orange liqueur, orange juice, a splash of lemon juice, strawberries, lemon-lime seltzer, and with some chocolate shavings for garnish. And Scarlet Kiss, which is strawberry vodka, raspberry vodka, Chambord, lemon-lime seltzer, and strawberry garnish.”

Momo claps her hands delightedly, letting out a small laugh. “Both sound great. We’ll have one of each.”

It takes Sana a few beats before she finds her voice after the waitress leaves, and she inwardly winces when she hears the waver in her words. “I forgot it was Valentine’s Day.”

Momo shrugs. “Yeah, I made reservations for me and Mina, but she texted me earlier today saying that something had come up at work. Some finicky client or whatever. But it would have been a shame to waste the reservation. This place is supposed to be really good.”

“So I thought it would be nice to bring you here. And it’s such a great opportunity for us to catch-up more.” Momo smiles at her, and Sana feels the embarrassment heating up her cheeks, the stark reminder that she’s only here as second-choice, only in Momo’s life as the second-choice.

There are not enough cocktails in the world to drown out the voice in her head, but Sana tries, Momo giggling and keeping pace with her drinking, waving her dainty hand in the air for Jeongyeon each time they reach the bottom of their glasses. To Jeongyeon’s credit and good manners, she doesn’t say anything as Sana burns through enough alcohol to make a grown man kneel over, just keeps the drinks magically appearing throughout their dinner. Sana doesn’t even remember the food, just the taste of strawberries in her mouth to go along with the scent of cherry blossoms in Momo’s hair, and she wonders if she’ll forever be reminded of this night posing as a stand-in date each time she smells or eats sweet things. She really hopes not.

It’s hours later that Sana is dropping Momo off at her place, the two of them sharing a cab, Sana telling the driver to wait as she walks Momo to her front door, the night air chilly against her cheek, her arm linked with the other girl’s, Momo stumbling slightly as she walks, bumping up against Sana. “Careful, Momo. I think you had too much to drink.” Sana vaguely registers that she might be slurring her words, and Momo’s laugh hits the night before she responds. “I-I’m fine, Sana. Perfectly fine.” Momo is _definitely_ slurring her words, and Sana tightens her hold on Momo’s arm, trying to straighten the other girl out as they walk up the steps to the door. “Are you sure you’re alright, Momo? Can I call Mina out here for you or something?”

Momo spins on her heel at the top of the steps, nearly taking the both of them down to the ground, looking at Sana with a pout gracing her face, eyes wide with declaration. “I’m fine.” A pause. “She’s probably not home yet anyways. Mina said she’d be late and to not wait up.” Sana grunts as Momo pulls on her arm to catch herself, her footing still uneven. The sound of Momo’s housekeys scraping against the lock makes Sana’s head hurt, and she is about to take the damn thing away from Momo and just do it herself when the _pop_ happens, the sound of the key sliding in a welcome relief, accompanied by Momo’s little _aha_.

And Momo turns to her, moonlight casting her face in a soft glow, and Sana has a brief insane urge to brush away the strand of hair that has escaped and is clinging to Momo’s cheek, the urge to tuck it behind her ear. But before she can do so, Momo is murmuring a _goodnight_ , her face coming closer to brush another to-close-for-comfort kiss across Sana’s cheek. Except Momo is still unsteady, still too drunk, and Sana lets out a small whimper as the kiss catches the corner of her mouth, burning her to the core.

She’s left alone on Momo’s doorstep as the door closes behind the other girl, letting herself bask in the feeling of Momo’s adoration, wishing it were love instead, eyes squeezed tight until the loud honk spurs her to open them, the lights dancing on the edge of her vision, a pretty aftereffect of hoping too hard.

\---

Sana avoids Momo like the plague until the wedding.

She keeps every interaction as minimal as possible, thankfully only two more dress appointments necessary to give Momo the final version that she’s dreamed of her entire life. She ignores Momo’s invitation to go to lunch together, feigning a stomach bug and spends the entire day in bed watching mindless dramas, a tub of ice cream dwindling rapidly under the force of her spoon. The dinner is refused as she lies through her teeth about needing to work, preparing a dress for a client on short notice as last minute alterations need to be made. She makes sure to answer every text at least three hours after receiving it, even though she sees it within a minute each time, her eyes drawn to her phone like a magnet when Momo’s name pops up. The second lunch is accepted, if only because Sana knows what guilt is, the feeling worming its way into her head, but she manages to go the entire time without even talking to Momo, their party of 15 thankfully letting Sana sit at the opposite end of the table without any trouble.

Sana can’t avoid the bachelorette party.

The night is a bigger mess than she anticipates, and at one point Momo is so far gone that she’s halfway in Nayeon’s lap, her tiny perfect mouth pressed up against the other girl’s, a mix of giggles and shrieks of laughter excusing her behavior. And then Momo is all over everyone, handing out innocuous kisses like she’s fucking Santa giving out presents for Christmas. Sana desperately wants to believe that she has more restraint, but she doesn’t, and she finds herself pressing her lips up against Momo’s as well, lying to herself that she’s just joining in with the revelry, that it doesn’t mean anything at all as she kisses Momo with a bruising intensity as if she might die if she lets go.

_Not drunk enough for this._

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom where she cries for exactly three minutes, and when she returns, she spends the rest of the night hating herself and repeating the words in her head.

The night before the wedding Sana takes a sleeping pill, and it helps her drift off into a dreamless, Momo-less sleep. Eight fucking hours of heaven before waking up to her own personal hell.

She always forgets how hectic weddings are, her part of the ceremonies usually long finished before the day of, her prideful creations in their proper place awaiting to be donned by the bride in the morning. But she has the unwelcome experience of seeing the behind the scenes for the first time, the evident stress in Momo’s voice as the workers bustle around hurriedly trying to find their spots. At least her job is simple, telling Momo that it’s all going to be fine, everything will be splendid, nothing is wrong, that she is beautiful. A senseless stream of words that Momo doesn’t hear anyway, her mind clearly too far off in a place that Sana can’t reach.

Everything goes as well as it should.

And Sana finds herself sitting in the audience, a front-row seat to Momo getting married, wishing she could be anywhere else but here, one in a sea of spectators that will forever be captured in the multitude of photos taken for the wedding, enough to fuel Momo’s memories for years to come. The doors open, and everyone turns around to look at Momo walking down the aisle, and Sana feels her heart beating quicker as the other girl gets closer and closer. Sana has the seat right up against the aisle, and Momo passes by so closely that Sana could reach out her left hand and brush against Momo’s fingers if she really wanted to. The veil flutters as she passes, and all Sana smells is the scent of cherry blossoms. But Momo is walking towards her future, Mina, not Sana, and she watches in a daze as Momo takes her rightful place.

The pastor starts, and Sana finds herself drifting. She can’t fucking stand it. Momo looks stunning in her wedding dress, in the dress that Sana made, and it’s only fitting that Momo has taken everything she has left to give, carving out her heart into an empty hollow, wearing her down until the very end. _She’s going to look beautiful in her wedding photos._ The regret tastes like strawberries in her mouth, an acrid reminder that she agreed to be instrumental in her own misery the instant she accepted Momo’s request. But really, she’d be lying to herself if she pretended that was the moment she sealed her own fate, when she had doomed herself far earlier by even opening the door the first day. Letting Momo back in.

She closes her eyes, and their memories together replay in her head like some type of anniversary montage, only hers doesn’t have a happy ending. Momo pulling her into her room to teach her how to dance, Sana clumsily following along with the steps. Making snow angels on Momo’s front lawn when they were in middle school before heading inside to drink hot chocolate. The two of them breaking into her parents’ liquor cabinet, trying to get a taste of being adults. Hiding out at Momo’s apartment during university when her housemates decided to throw large parties that she had no patience for. Getting her first real paycheck and blowing half of it in a weekend celebratory trip at Momo’s insistence.

The pain she had felt when she realized Momo had left, maybe for good, and her broken self desperately grasping at any last vestiges of the other girl. _You would make a great wedding dress designer._ She had clung on to the only thing she had left of Momo, the thin wisps of a whispered dream when they were younger the only thing she could reach for, like smoke slipping through her fingers. The little shop had always been Momo’s vision, and Sana wrapped herself up in it when Momo left, cocooning herself so tightly that she could barely breathe.

Sana still can’t breathe.

But she forces herself to watch anyway, eyes wide, as Momo says _I do_.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@sidestickienote](https://twitter.com/sidestickienote)  
> CuriousCat: [@sidestickienote](https://curiouscat.qa/sidestickienote)  
> 


End file.
